


Vigilance

by oldhetaliafics (BisKitty)



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 09:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3323171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BisKitty/pseuds/oldhetaliafics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written for Sweethearts Week 2012</p><p>Skyrim AU with Daedric Lore as part of the focus. Arthur learns that perhaps one should be a bit more careful when dealing with cults that follow a murderous deity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vigilance

“Well, who do we have here?” the Nord’s accent was thick, and the young Breton wanted to vomit from the smell of the other man’s breath. “A little mage who has wandered too far from his flock. Or perhaps a Vigilant stupid enough to challenge the powerful Boethiah?” The dark-robed Nord let out a laugh, keeping the Breton’s arms pinned behind his back and forcing the young man to the ground.

There was only supposed to be one priest of Boethiah, the Breton told himself. His job had simply been to get rid of one simple follower of the nasty Daedric Prince, and instead, he had stumbled onto a group of them. One Vigilant of Stendarr, sworn to protect the people from the influences of Daedra and their horrible creations, was nowhere near enough to handle it.

“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” the Vigilant, a fair-haired young Breton by the name of Arthur, snarled. He tried to squirm out of the grip of the brutish Nord, earning the laughter of the other dark robed ‘priests’, another Nord, two Orcs, and a Dark Elf, to be precise.

“You answered your own question, young Vigilant. We haven’t killed you, yet,” a woman, the lone Dark Elf explained. Arthur struggled all the more desperately at this reply.

“’For the weak must be slain’, isn’t that what your so-called deity says? Stendarr spits upon your foul practices!” Arthur snarled. For his response, the Breton earned a punch from the female Orc. The bruise it would cause was certainly the least of his worries.

“And you, young Vigilant, do not prey upon the weak? Not all daedra, vampires, or werewolves are as powerful as the Great Boethiah and her followers! Yet, our mistress requires a sacrifice, and you’ll do just fine. Take him to the sacellum!” The Dark Elf, evidently the leader of this group, said with a grin.

Arthur put up another desperate attempt at escaping the Nord’s tight grip, but it was still a futile effort. He was dragged through the dark, and mountainous region before being led into the center of the twisted shrine. A statue of the Daedric Prince, a powerful being from the depths of Oblivion, towered over them. The statue of a woman-like figure stood there, glaring at Arthur (and perhaps the other mortals) with disgust, raising her sword high as if to strike. The Breton was lead to the stone pillar in front of the statue.

Arthur’s head barely missed being bashed against the pillar when he was shoved to his knees by the Nord priest. If he could just slip out of the grasp, he would be able to- Arthur let out a scream when one of the Orcs drove a dagger into his hands, pinning both of them, one over the other to the pillar. Escape was not an option anymore. Arthur was going to die and his corpse would become a puppet for the foul creature that leaked from Oblivion at this spot. How ironic that a man who had devoted his life to the eradication of such things would become a plaything of the Daedra.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at his hands, he could feel the blood oozing out of the fresh wound. With the flow of blood, he felt a cold fear grip the back of his head like a hand forcing him to obey, to follow. Boethiah would be pleased by his spilt blood, and cared nothing for the lives of mere mortals. Arthur would never plea for his life from such a monster.

The Dark Elf stood over him, her lips wide with a smirk as she murmured ancient words, words that could summon the attention of Boethiah. She raised the sacrificial dagger in the air, and Arthur prepared himself for it’s inevitable end in his throat or chest. Instead, he was surprised that the priestess collapsed onto him, a well placed arrow on his throat.

However, his rescuer apparently did not have the capability for any more stealth than that as a young Nord with bright blonde hair and fierce dark blue war paint leapt from the shadows with a shout and landed a decent blow to the female Orc with his sword. Unable to do much more than look on, Arthur examined his rescuer further. The young man was well equipped and armed, with steel armor that seemed wolf-like. Obviously this young man had a profession in adventuring.

Despite this apparent skill and promise, the Nord found himself surrounded by the four remaining priests. It certainly wasn’t a fair fight, and Arthur guessed that the foolhardy young man would simply become a fellow sacrifice. If only Arthur could use magic despite his now-mangled and immobile hands. If only he could use The Voice and shout those damnable priests away from the other man. Arthur was a Vigilant of Stendarr, and he refused to go down quietly. Alas, Arthur’s stubborn reminders to himself did nothing to remove the dagger.

The Vigilant could only look on as the dark robed priests prepared to obtain another sacrifice. An odd sort of dark miasma began to surround Arthur’s would-be rescuer, something was changing him. Armor became dark, muscled flesh as the tall young man seemed to gain at least a foot in height as well as broader shoulders and long arms with sharp claws. The almost-handsome face had since become the snarling snout of a wolf. Arthur had been rescued from the Daedric followers by yet another enemy of the Vigilants, a werewolf.

Arthur shut his eyes. He could still hear the snarls, the sounds of claws rending flesh from bone, sharp fangs sinking into tender skin, and the shrieking and shuddering death cries of the priests. There was a moment of silence before heavy footsteps grew closer, the slight sound of sharp claws scraping against the stone floor of the sacellum. Arthur realized he had been holding his breath when a hand, a human one, was placed on his shoulder.

“Hey now, I wasn’t expecting a mage-type here. You okay? Where’r you from? The College at Winterhold? Sure is a long ways away, huh?” the man- no the werewolf started to babble as he quickly pulled the dagger off of the shrine. Arthur responded with a groan of pain. “Not much of a talker, are you? Well, I’m no good with magicka, so you’ll just have to heal the old fashioned way until I can get you to a healer, all right? Are you hurt anywhere else? Oh and where should I take you? I can’t head up, but I can drop you off at Windhelm or just take you all the way to Whiterun, cause that’s where I’m headed, see?”

Arthur wished the other man would just shut up, as his rescuer wrapped some bandages around his mutilated hands. It would certainly be a while before Arthur could properly use spells. He was defenseless and stuck with a werewolf, but Arthur was at least glad he hadn’t been sacrificed to the owner of the statue that loomed over the pair.

“Hello? Are you there? Oh. You probably want me to introduce myself! I’m Alfred F. Jones, one of the heroic Companions! I’m sure you’ve heard of our heroic deeds!” he said, finishing up the bandaging before waving a hand in front of Arthur’s face.

“You’re nothing but a foul servant of Hircine! He’s no better than Boethiah!” Arthur managed to snarl out, jerking his hands away from Alfred. He examined his hands, making sure the werewolf had not done something to them.

“Oh, you’re one of those Vigilant types, eh? They always said you guys were weird. Is this really how you treat people who save your life? If it weren’t for me, you’d have been sacrificed,” Alfred said, leaning away from Arthur.

“One Daedric Prince is just as bad as another. It was your decision to let that false-deity taint your blood with that of a beast’s. I am Arthur Kirkland, a Vigilant of Stendarr, and I will not stand for that!” Arthur snapped angrily.

“Well then why don’t I just leave you here and let you walk all the way back to the Hall of the Vigilant?” Alfred replied with a pout, crossing his arms.

That certainly shut Arthur up. Without his magic, it was unlikely that he could make it down the mountain and to Windhelm, let alone across the half of Skyrim that lay between himself and his destination.

“Fine then, leave me here, it’s what I’d expect from a beast like you!” Arthur yelled.

“Don’t be silly! Heroes don’t leave innocent people to die! No matter how stuck-up and rude they might be!” the warrior stuck his tongue out.

“I refuse to further dignify this with a comment. Now please take me to Windhelm so I can rid myself of your company.”

Alfred simply rolled his eyes before scooping the injured man up and slinging him over his back. Arthur refused to even allow himself to protest. It was certainly going to be a long descent.

The sky grew darker as they progressed down the mountain before finally settling on creating a camp near the base of the mountain. Arthur would have liked to get farther from the shrine to that hellish beast, but it was late, and Alfred could only carry the injured man for so long. Perhaps after a good night’s rest Arthur would be able to walk on his own.

Alfred had been kind enough to start them a fire and was warming himself by it. Arthur moved closer, not wanting to freeze to death rather than any wish to be near the other man. He spared Alfred a glance, noting that the werewolf was quite young, perhaps around twenty, and his baby face did not help much. Arthur was used to seeing harsh Nords that matched their cold and dangerous land, but Alfred was almost… cute. Well, he would be cute if Arthur didn’t constantly remind himself of the beast in his blood, and the blue eyed wolf that had slaughtered the foul priests.

Arthur cleared his throat and shifted closer to the fire. He was still unsure as to how he had survived this ordeal. Nobody would believe that he had nearly been sacrificed nor that a werewolf would have bothered to save a Vigilant.

“So, you got family in Windhelm or somethin’?” Alfred asked.

There was a few seconds of pause before Arthur was able to formulate a reply, “No, I don’t. I suppose there’s a whole group of you wolves back in Whiterun.”

“Nah, I’m the only werewolf in the family. My brother helps out at the apothecary’s shop there. I earn most of the gold by my valiant efforts as a Companion! What about your family?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“So you’re just going to stay in Windhelm?”

“As a non-Nord with Elven heritage? Are you stupid? Those overly nationalistic arses would rather get themselves killed than acknowledge that any race other than Nord considers Skyrim home.”

Alfred paused a bit, as if thinking over his reply before going ahead with it, “Don’t you think that you’re the same?”

“What?! I told you, the daedra have no place here! Tamriel was better off without them and their influences!”

“The Stormcloaks aren’t as bad as you say but… if you just switch a few words around, the message is the same.”

Arthur sent Alfred a glare, “You’ve lived as a Nord your entire life. I doubt you’d understand.”

“No! You don’t understand! We just want freedom from the Empire!”

“Thereby driving anyone but the Nords out of it! The Empire may not be perfect, but at least they acknowledge that I, even as a Breton, was born and bred in this land and consider it my home!”

“And what about you? Daedra and those who have been affected by them exist, and you can’t just go around killing them willy nilly!” Alfred punched the ground, glaring right back at Arthur.

“And what? Let the priests that nearly sacrificed me live?”

“I didn’t say that! Why would I? I was the one who killed them in the first place! I just… Can’t you see that not all werewolves are bad? I could have just left you there, but I’m helping you and I haven’t even gotten thanks!” the Companion let out a frustrated sigh, feeling like the conversation was going nowhere.

There was a noticeable silence before Arthur finally responded with a quiet “Thank you.” The conversation ended, and the two kept up the silence long after they had slept and got back on the road to the large city of Windhelm.

Arthur had always hated Windhelm, and it wasn’t simply for what it represented to him. The stone walls and buildings of the city seemed more fitting of a labyrinth than a place to live, and the icy wind knew just how to wind it’s way through the claustrophobic streets and chill people to the bone.

Alfred led him to Candlehearth Hall, an inn and one of the places the inhabitants of Windhelm turned to in order to keep themselves warm and to escape the tight maze of streets. The two stood in front of the inn, hesitating to go on without at least saying something.

“We’re lucky to have missed one of this place’s infamous blizzards. But um, where will you go from here?” Alfred was the first one to break the silence.

“I don’t know. Probably somewhere to get my hands and other injuries looked at. Then I’ll think about returning to the Hall of the Vigilant. If they’d accept me,” Arthur refused to add ‘If I’d accept them’ to his statements.

“Hey! Um… I know a pretty good healer in this city. Maybe I could stay here with you and show you in the morning! Also… I could just take you to Whiterun after that. I have a friend who could use your magely powers!” Alfred spoke quickly, a nervous grin appearing on his face.

“Well, I suppose I must return the favor,” Arthur hesitantly agreed. Alfred wrapped his arm around Arthur’s shoulder and escorted him into Candlehearth Hall.

**Author's Note:**

> -Daedra - Residing in a magic dimension called Oblivion, these creatures are sort of deities. The higher level ones are referred to as daedric princes, regardless of gender (though daedra don't really have gender in the human sense)  
> -Boethiah - Daedric Prince of deceit, conspiracy, secret plots of murder, assassination, treason, and usurpation  
> -Hircine - Daedric Prince of the hunt. Werewolves are known as Hircine's Hounds.  
> -Skyrim - The Northern region of Tamriel, the world that The Elder Scrolls games take place in.It's known for it's tall mountains and cold climpate  
> -Windhelm - one of the oldest cities in Skyrim. It's located in the North and is the seat of the Stormcloak rebellion against the Empire  
> -Whiterun - a large city in the south of Skyrim that is home to the Companions  
> -Vigilants of Stendarr - a militant order of priests and priestesses that make it their duty to hunt down Daedra and those influenced by daedra (such as werewolves, vampires, and witches). Ironically, Stendarr is the god of mercy in Skyrim.  
> -Companions- a group of fighter and mercenaries that make their home in Whiterun. They take on contracts and assist people. A number of them happen to be werewolves (like Alfred)


End file.
